Solstice Stories
by jackwabbit
Summary: Short, unrelated stories written as a December challenge. One fic per day until the 24th. Updated as close to daily as possible. Some will be holiday-themed and some will not. Multi-fandom, many characters. Summaries at start of each chapter. Fringe, Limitless (TV), Avengers, Star Wars, Agents of SHIELD, Farscape, Sherlock, Firefly, Star Trek Enterprise, SG-1, SGA, Iron Man.
1. Kindred Spirits (Fringe & LimitlessTV)

**Kindred Spirits**  
  
Fandom: Fringe/Limitless  
Rated: PG  
Category: Double drabble. Gen. Humor.  
Season: Any for Fringe. One for Limitless.  
Spoilers: General Series Knowledge.  
Summary: Buying gifts for work Secret Santa exchanges is usually hard, but sometimes you get lucky.  
Disclaimer: It doesn't take a genius to know I don't own Fringe or Limitless.

xxx

Oliva Dunham usually didn't participate in the work Secret Santa thing.

She already kept far too many other secrets for that.

But Astrid had insisted this time, so she figured she'd make the best of it, even if she just bought a stranger a bunch of lottery tickets and some gift cards or something.

Then she got her name, and her misgivings fell away.

She didn't know her recipient well, but she knew of her, and more importantly, she knew of her partner.

It was hard not to, since he supposedly made Peter look dim.

So as she finished wrapping her gift, she grinned and reached for the card she'd purchased.

She penned a short note, confident her writing wouldn't be recognized in another department, then taped the card to her gift.

She got Astrid to deliver it.

A few days later, the gift was opened, and though the present was certainly appreciated, it was the card that brought a laugh and was put away for inspiration later.

Because Olivia had known just the right words to send Rebecca Harris along with the bottle of liquor she'd wrapped.

 _Good luck with the new partner. You're gonna need it (and this)._


	2. Just the Facts (Avengers)

**Just the Facts**

Fandom: Avengers (MCU)  
Rated: G  
Category: Vignette. Friendship. Coulson, Romanoff – sort of.  
Season: Takes place in season four of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, but open time frame.  
Spoilers: AoS - Meet the Boss, Uprising (very minor to non-existent).  
Summary: People like them only talked about the facts. Right? Yeah. Sure. Right.  
Word Count: 473.  
Disclaimer: All things Marvel belong to the Man (and the Mouse). Excelsior!

xxx

Most people didn't know that Philip Coulson kept a personal phone.

So when it rang that night, he jumped before realizing what it was. It had been a long, long time since he'd heard that ringtone, and it didn't register at first.

But after a second ring, he dug the phone out from the drawer on his nightstand . When he saw an unknown caller on the screen, he hesitated. It was probably a wrong number, and he really didn't feel like dealing with even that small amount of hassle. He had enough going on. But despite his misgivings, he took a deep breath and punched the button.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end of the line was all business. "Coulson."

So, not a wrong number, then. He answered in the only way he could.

"Natasha."

As per usual, they didn't mince words.

"I heard about May," said Natasha.

Coulson sighed. "Yeah."

It's all he could say.

It was quiet for a moment, and Coulson could almost hear Nat's nod. Then she spoke quietly.

"When Clint was gone…"

Phil cut her off. "I know."

A beat passed.

"But you got her back?" asked Natasha, "And she's her?"

"Yeah."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Once again, silence fell between them, and once again, it was Natasha who broke it.

"Well, okay, then. I've got to run."

Phil chuckled. "Always."

"You know it," answered Natasha, as she ended the call.

Phil slowly shook his head when the line went dead, then put the phone back in its place.

Afterward, he sat down on his bed and just stared at the drawer holding the phone for a while.

Then he smiled.

Because in just a handful of words, Natasha Romanoff had said so much more.

He'd known better than to ask where she was or what she was doing or how she knew about May, but he'd gotten her point without elaboration, as she'd known he would.

 _Oh, Natasha,_ he thought. _Once scared to death of losing her partner (and best friend and then some), then relieved as hell to get him back but unable to say anything of the sort to anyone – even now. Natasha, caring about her old hander and knowing he was in a similar situation with similar feelings, but not able to say that, either, so instead just sticking to the facts._

He could relate.

Coulson chuckled and made up his mind about something right then and there.

And so he found himself in a cantina in Borneo three weeks later. One that a certain redhead had been visiting regularly of late.

She walked in right on time. If she was surprised to see him, she didn't show it, so he didn't have to pretend innocence. Nor did he have to say why he was there.

Instead, he merely bought her a drink.


	3. Cherished (Star Wars)

**Cherished  
**  
Fandom: Star Wars  
Rated: G  
Category: Gen.  
Time Frame: Pre-ANH.  
Spoilers: General Star Wars Knowledge Only, and Barely So.  
Summary: Everyone has that one holiday present they remember forever - even in a galaxy far, far away.  
Word Count: 447  
Note: Written for the random prompt of "gaffe." Meh. Close enough.

xxx

Tatooine didn't have much in the way of winter.

Sure, it got a little less hot and a little more dry for a few weeks, but that was pretty much it.

So Luke Skywalker always thought having a "winter festival" was dumb.

Still, he didn't mind the gifts. Who would?

And this year, he got the best gift of all. Uncle Owen had allowed him to go into Anchorhead on his own. It was just a supply run – an emergency supply run to pick up a gift for Aunt Beru that his uncle had forgotten about, in fact – but it was still Luke's first time to take the landspeeder out that far on his own.

He was on his way back, still basking in the glory of his newfound freedom, when he saw it.

How he noticed it he wasn't sure, but there it was. A glint of metal just to the right of the speeder as he rounded a pile of rocks.

Luke stopped the speeder and jumped out.

He wasn't supposed to make any detours, but this hardly counted to his mind. It was on the way, after all.

So he backtracked a bit on foot and found what had caught his eye.

When he did, he smiled bigger than should've been legal.

He looked around despite knowing he was absolutely alone, then quickly stowed the object in the speeder.

After that, he raced straight home. When he got there, he delivered the package to Owen on the double, then ran out to the workshop, leaving his uncle shaking his head at the energy of youth.

Once he had some privacy, Luke removed his prize from the speeder and admired it. He ran his hands along its surface and grinned. He couldn't believe his luck.

Just then, Aunt Beru called him to eat, so Luke stuffed his treasure under his workbench and ran inside, but not before giving it one last caress.

As he ate that night, he didn't notice Owen and Beru giving each other odd looks over the table. He wasn't aware of that his sudden good mood was the reason for their expressions. No, he was too busy thinking about what he'd found to worry about things like that, and though he had other gifts to open in a few days, he knew nothing would compare to what the desert had given him, and he suddenly knew his season was looking up.

Luke went to bed after supper, and he slept quickly after his long day, but as he drifted off, he had only one thought. A solo Anchorhead run _and_ a bone fide, actual, real gaffi stick?

 _Happy Holiday to me._


	4. Holiday Reprieve (Fringe & LimitlessTV)

**Holiday Reprieve  
**  
Fandom: Fringe/Limitless  
Rated: PG  
Category: Vignette. Gen. Humor.  
Season: Any.  
Spoilers: General Series Knowledge.  
Summary: Olivia was usually very by the book, even now. But what the hell, it was Christmas.  
Word Count: 376  
Disclaimer: It doesn't take a genius to know I don't own Fringe or Limitless.

xxx

Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," answered Olivia.

"Again?"

"Again."

"On Christmas Eve?"

"Yep. And get this. This time? He brought a friend."

Peter sighed again as he and Olivia took in the cloud of smoke filling the lab. They were about to go in and throw Walter out when another woman barreled past them and yelled into the room.

"Brian Finch! You get out here right this minute!"

A red-haired man with a goofy grin on his face emerged a moment later.

"Rebecca," he greeted. "Fancy meeting you here." His grin grew impossibly wider and the woman now identified as Rebecca rolled her eyes.

Olivia nearly grinned at that. It wasn't exactly an unfamiliar expression in the lab.

But instead, she introduced herself.

"Olivia Dunham, FBI" she said, sticking out a hand to the other woman.

Rebecca took the offered hand and shook it firmly. "Rebecca Harris, same," she said.

"What are you doing at Harvard?" asked Olivia, suddenly much more interested in what was going on.

Rebecca hooked a thumb at the red-haired man. "Tracking down this genius," she said, clearly exasperated and sarcastic.

Said "genius" merely grinned, and Olivia sighed again.

"Well, mission accomplished. Now, I must insist that you leave now. This area is classified on a need-to-know basis and you know how it is. Plus, I guess we have to take care of these two."

Olivia nodded toward the redhead, who she presumed was Brian, and Walter, who was piddling around in the lab just out of earshot.

Rebecca started to nod and leave, but Peter finally added his two bits to the conversation.

"Lighten up, Olivia. It's Christmas. She's FBI. And it's not like he hasn't done much worse."

Olivia considered that for a moment, then seemed to concede the point. She looked over at Rebecca.

The other woman shrugged, making it all Olivia's choice.

After a moment, she shrugged back.

"Oh, what the hell," she said.

And so it was that Rebecca, Peter, and Olivia spent their holiday in a basement lab watching old reruns of Star Trek while Walter Bishop and Brian Finch introduced each other to their very own special holiday blends, and no, they certainly weren't working with coffee.


	5. Classic (Agents of SHIELD)

**Classic  
**  
Fandom: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D  
Rated: G  
Category: Triple Drabble. Friendship/Gen, but slight Philinda implied.  
Season: Four.  
Spoilers: AoS – Laws of Inferno Dynamics (very minor).  
Summary: You can't go wrong with the classics, be they the May, Coulson, or literary varieties.  
Disclaimer: All things Marvel belong to the Man (and the Mouse). Excelsior!

She couldn't believe her luck when she found it.

But there it was, wedged between Melville and London, in the bookstore's completely baffling organization system – or lack thereof.

She bought it in a heartbeat, despite its cost, because it was in good shape, and because frankly there was just no way she was going to pass it up.

* * *

He found the package on his desk on his birthday, a not-well-known date.

There was no card, but he didn't need one to know who it was from, especially not once he opened it.

He caressed the book and smiled as he placed it in his desk drawer.

He read its familiar pages again that night, then put this particular copy up on a shelf for safekeeping.

After all, he had a worn paperback that served for reading, and he wasn't willing to risk spilling a drink on a first edition of a classic.

Still, he'd get it down on his more introspective nights and thumb through the pages, usually wondering "what if?" while doing so.

But in the end, he'd always put it back on the shelf with a bittersweet smile, then turn in for the night.

He never thanked the giver outright. They simply didn't do things like that.

But their line of work sometimes blessed them in unexpected ways, and when the question of what Aida might dream of came up, Phil Coulson had only one possible response.

"Electric sheep?" popped out of his mouth before he knew it.

The little grin Melinda May gave in return was all the acknowledgement he needed.

That night was another one for getting things off the shelf, and though it ended the same as all the others, Coulson had to admit that it was getting harder and harder to put them back.

* * *

A/N: the book is Philip K. Dick's _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ , the basis for the movie _Blade Runner_. Coulson's reference to it last week cracked me up, and here we are.


	6. Peace on Earth-Briefly(Agents of SHIELD)

**Peace on Earth - Briefly**

Fandom: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D  
Rated: G  
Category: Vignette. Gen. Team.  
Season: Any after we know Daisy's name/flexible.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: He really should have known better than to mention it.  
Disclaimer: All things Marvel belong to the Man (and the Mouse). Excelsior!  
Word Count: 312.  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "Earthquake."

xxx

They were in California this year.

It wasn't so bad, really.

Sure, the idea of a white Christmas appealed to some bit of nostalgia Phil Coulson held in his heart, and the music and art of the season helped that along, but there was something to be said for sunny skies and warm breezes.

It was a beautiful day, the team was all together, and the bad guys must've been all snug in their beds, because there wasn't a mission for once.

So Phil couldn't help but smile as he rolled down the street in Lola, top down and sunglasses on.

As he pulled up to the safe house where they were staying, he grinned wider at the haphazard decorations the team had put up. Entering the house, he dropped the packages he had just bought next to the tree and flopped down on the couch for a moment's rest.

May walked in a second later and joined him on the couch.

"Busy day?" she asked.

Coulson nodded. "Yeah, but in a good way. This is nice."

"If you like sharing," groused May. "I had to wait half an hour for a shower this morning."

Phil chuckled. "It is a bit crowded, I'll grant you, but everyone here, all together, and the world not ending for once? That's nice."

Just then a rumble shook everything in the house, then another, stronger shake knocked a few pictures off the walls. Daisy came running into the room.

"I swear to God, that wasn't me," she said.

Sirens sounded outside. Coulson sighed and glanced at May, who rolled her eyes in response.

"You had to say it, didn't you?"

"Sorry."

"You'd better be," said May, standing and offering Coulson a hand up.

An hour later, they were volunteering with relief efforts across the city, where the earthquake had been much stronger.

Christmas would have to wait.


	7. That's About Right (Farscape)

**That's About Right**

Fandom: Farscape  
Rated: PG  
Category: Drabble. Gen. Crew but with a John focus.  
Season: Two-ish.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: As holiday parties went, John thought he was pretty close to the mark, even on Moya.  
Note: Written for a random word prompt of "precedent."

xxx

John Crichton looked around blearily.

He was exhausted and a bit buzzed.

Still, he had enough of his faculties to know he'd done alright.

Rygel was passed out drunk in the corner, Zhaan was meditating, D'Argo was off doing God knows what with Chiana, and Aeryn had stormed out in a huff.

In other words, his first Christmas party on Moya had done a good job of recreating the holiday on Earth. And though he would've preferred it to not be quite so accurate, he smiled anyway.

Because as precedents go, this one wasn't half bad.

Now, about next year…


	8. This Little Piggy (Sherlock)

**This Little Piggy**

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
Rated: PG  
Category: Vignette. Gen.  
Series: Any.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: A pig? Well, wasn't that just par for the course these days?  
Word Count: 573.  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "pig."

xxx

John Watson sighed.

"Sherlock, why is there is a pig in the living room?"

There was no answer from the house, so John cautiously made his way into the flat and looked around.

He didn't see anything else amiss, and he didn't find his roommate or an answer to his question, but the pig he'd clearly seen on his way in was real enough. It trundled down the hall as if it owned the place.

John followed it, and when he reached Sherlock's bedroom, he slowly opened the door.

There was still no sign of the detective, so John sighed again and headed to his own room. He'd sort this out after a change of clothes. It had been a long day at the surgery, and it was Christmas Eve to boot, so he was too tired to deal with a porcine roommate at all, but at least getting out of his work clothes would make this next adventure more comfortable.

As John stepped into his room, he flicked on the light and was greeted by a groan.

"Sherlock?"

"Who else would it be, John? Now turn off the bloody light. I'm trying to sleep."

"In my bed?"

"Is it?"

John sighed again.

"Yes, Sherlock, it is," he said. "Now get out. Go sleep in your own bed. And by the way, why do we have a pig?"

"We have a pig?"

Just then, said animal nosed its way into the room and snorted an obvious affirmative.

Sherlock rolled over to look at the pig and John gestured to it.

"Yes, Sherlock, we have a pig."

"Clearly," answered Sherlock.

"Why?" asked John, patience wearing thin.

"Oh. I had to borrow her from the petting zoo. She can go back now."

With that, Sherlock promptly fell back asleep.

John didn't even bother trying to wake him again. Sherlock was in one of his patented "I haven't slept in four days and now you can't wake me for anything" phases, and it wasn't worth it. It also wasn't worth asking why he'd needed the pig or why he hadn't taken it home.

And so John Watson spent the rest of his Christmas Eve returning a pig to a petting zoo.

Then he slept in Sherlock's bed and thought nothing of it while his roommate lazed in his.

In the morning, he got up very early and spent a few hours with his sister and their family.

And when he got a phone call while there, he answered it with more excitement than he let on.

Because only one thing would rouse Sherlock in his current state, and that was a case.

John would make his goodbyes then, and spend his Christmas Day wrists-deep in a corpse next to Molly Hooper. He'd forget to tell her about the pig until that night, when they grabbed a quick bite to eat on their way home. The waiter asked if he wanted bacon on his burger, and John laughed way too loudly before declining, then explained himself to Molly.

Molly laughed with him, but neither of them were surprised by John's holiday adventure.

After all, when you lived with Sherlock Holmes, a pig for a flatmate was par for the course.

And only sometimes was that a metaphor.


	9. Stupid Hormones (Firefly)

**Stupid Hormones**

Fandom: Firefly  
Rated: PG  
Category: Vignette. Pre-series. Mal/OFC (very tame).  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: They say love makes you stupid. It sure was true for Mal this time.  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "route."  
Word Count: 650.

xxx

Mal slipped in the window and breathed a sigh of relief.

He'd made it clear over to Emma's and back without being caught.

He slipped out of his boots and trousers and slid under his covers.

As he tried to calm down from his clandestine meeting, he listened hard to the house. He didn't hear his mother up and about, so he grinned wickedly. He'd truly made it.

He fell asleep a bit later, happy as a clam – or as a teenager who'd gotten away with something, which to his mind was much better than any clam.

In the morning, he made breakfast like usual.

When he sat down at the table with his mom, she smiled sweetly at him.

"You sleep alright?" she asked.

Mal swallowed. Did she know? How could she? He told himself there was no way she could and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Yes'm," he mumbled, shoving a spoonful of eggs into his mouth.

"That's good," said his mother, " I thought maybe you'd gotten up to check the animals."

Mal's brow furrowed. "No, ma'am."

"Oh, okay. Guess we'll have to hire a night watchman, then. Because someone was out in the yard last night. Funny thing, though. They seem to have come from over on the Johnson farm."

 _Uh-oh_ , thought Mal.

"Ma'am?"

A gentle smile greeted his question, then his mother explained.

"There's a set of footprints in the snow coming from that way and leadin' right up to the house. Odd, that. You sure there's nothing you want to tell me, Malcolm?"

Mal sighed. The game was up. No sense in denying it now. Mal worked his mouth a few times, then finally managed to get the words out, face red all over.

"I went to see Emma," he confessed.

"I see," said his mother, standing and starting to clear the table.

She didn't say anything else for a while, and Mal stewed, wondering what his fate would be.

Finally, she returned to the table and whispered in his ear.

"That's natural enough, son, but you be careful. I know you know how things work, and you don't need none of that trouble. Promise me you'll be careful."

Mal nodded, still waiting on his punishment. "I will, mama. I promise."

"Good. Now, one more thing. No, two things. One, next time you go sneakin' about, make sure to brush out your footprints, boy. There's fresh snow on the ground. You're smarter than that."

Mal nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"And two, go clean the pig sty and muck all the stalls. I sent Robert home this morning. I figured he could use the break, what with the new baby and all. And it won't kill you to do it."

"Yes, ma'am," Mal muttered, knowing there was no use in arguing.

"Then do all your regular chores and get back in here in time for supper. And then schoolwork."

Mal didn't answer his mother this time, but instead got up and pulled on his coat. It was cold out there, and slopping the hogs and cleaning up after the horses would be miserable work.

But he didn't mind. Emma's kisses had made it worth his while.

As he worked, Mal thought about those kisses and when he could get some more of them. He knew he'd have to lay low for a bit, or his mama would tan his hide for sure, especially since she knew about his excursion last night. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid as to forget the snow, but he'd been too high on first love to care. He wouldn't make that mistake again. But he had to see Emma again, and not just in church. So he planned out a new route, thinking of areas with little snow cover, and knowing he'd take his mother's advice to cover his tracks next time.

And there would definitely be a next time.


	10. Worth It (Star Wars)

**Worth It**

Fandom: Star Wars  
Rated: G  
Category: Gen. Luke Focus.  
Time Frame: Pre-ANH.  
Spoilers: General Star Wars Knowledge Only, and Barely So.  
Summary: Sometimes, the risk is worth it.  
Word Count: 325  
Note: Written for the random prompt of "race."

xxx

Luke was grounded.

Again.

Both figuratively and literally.

He wasn't supposed to leave the house, and his T-16 was on lockdown.

But it's not like he'd never snuck out before, and he certainly could bypass his uncle's codes on the skyhopper, so he was tempted to just blow out of there in a blaze of glory. It's not like anyone could stop him.

But his uncle didn't know about that particular skill yet, and if Luke fired up the T-16, there was no way he wasn't getting caught. So he dismissed the fantasy of sticking it to his parents and settled on what, to him, was a much more reasonable plan.

Because this way, he stood a chance of maybe not getting into more trouble.

Not a great chance, but a chance, and he'd take what he could get.

So he sent a message to Tank.

Twenty minutes later, he climbed quietly out his window and hiked to the rendezvous point. Tank was waiting as planned.

Luke climbed into Tank's landspeeder and grinned.

"Right on time," he said.

Tank nodded back. "You know it," he answered. "But I'm surprised you took me up on the ride. Aren't you going to get in trouble?"

"No more than usual," Luke grumbled.

Then he grinned. "And only if we get caught."

Tank shrugged. "Your funeral, buddy."

Then he hit the accelerator and the landspeeder took off .

As it did, Luke looked behind him briefly, a worried look on his face. Because Tank was right. He was seriously in for it if he got caught on this one.

But it was too late to worry about that now, so he turned back around a moment later and his expression changed to one of anticipation and excitement.

Because while he couldn't afford his own ride for an event like this yet, he'd spent months helping Biggs get ready.

And there was no way he was missing this pod race.


	11. Lost in Translation (Star Trek ENT)

**Lost in Translation**

Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise  
Rated: G  
Category: Vignette. Gen. Malcolm and Trip, being Malcolm and Trip.  
Season: Early.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: Malcolm Reed and Charles Tucker spoke the same language. Or did they?  
Word Count: 387  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "biscuit."

xxx

Malcolm bit into the flaky thing gamely.

And as he chewed, he had to confess that it wasn't bad, despite his initial misgivings.

It was warm and buttery and entirely delicious, actually, even if it wasn't what he was expecting at all.

Of course, he hadn't expected to be sitting down for a snack with Commander Tucker, either.

The very idea of turning a weekly status report session into a social event didn't sit well with him, but the captain had made it clear that he was to "loosen up," so he'd offered to meet with the commander in his quarters instead of in the briefing room like usual.

Commander Tucker had agreed instantly and insisted on bringing something to the meeting, so Malcolm had said he'd make tea if Trip brought the biscuits.

And now here they were, Trip looking at Malcolm expectantly.

"Well?" asked the commander. "What do you think?"

Malcolm nodded. "It's good!" he said truthfully.

Trip beamed. "Just like my mother used to make. Made 'em myself. Got the flour and buttermilk direct from Chef."

Malcolm was incredulous.

"You made these by hand?"

"Yes, sir," said Trip. "No replicator can match homemade!"

"I'll say," agreed Malcolm, taking another bite and then sipping his tea.

"Now, about those status reports," started Trip.

Malcolm swallowed and grabbed a PADD. "Right."

Half an hour later, supplies were tallied, personnel rosters were updated, and the reports were filed.

But Malcolm and Trip lingered.

Malcolm made another pot of tea and ate two more biscuits before the two parted ways.

He never told Trip that "biscuits" were very different where he came from.

But he did mention to Hoshi that she might want to take a look at the universal translator matrix for old earth dialects still in use. Because even though America and Britain no longer existed – even though they had been sister countries with the same language back in the day – their dialects were very different, and obviously still in use.

He also continued to have informal meetings with the chief engineer for years. The locations varied, but the food never did. It was an unconventional menu based on a miscommunication, but neither man cared.

In fact, they were both grateful.

Because Malcolm made damn good tea, and Trip's buttermilk biscuits really were to die for.


	12. Full Frontal (Fringe)

**Full Frontal**

Fandom: Fringe  
Rated: G  
Category: Drabble. Peter/Olivia (mild).  
Season: Two.  
Spoilers: Over There, Part Two.  
Summary: Olivia was nothing if not direct.  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "assault."

xxx

Olivia wasn't the type to hint.

She usually said what she was thinking in no uncertain terms, even when men were involved.

So when it came to Peter and getting him back where he belonged, she didn't hesitate to use her favorite weapon: the full frontal assault.

Because no matter where he was born, Peter had only one home as far as she was concerned.

So when he said he didn't belong anywhere, she corrected him in her usual way.

She simply stated the facts as she saw them, then ended with the killer blow.

"Because you belong with me."


	13. Because Reasons (Avengers)

**Because Reasons**

Fandom: Avengers (MCU with a touch of comic canon thrown in.)  
Rated: PG  
Category: Double drabble. Team. Friendship.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: Avengers Tower during a holiday party. What could go wrong?  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "desk."

xxx

Clint closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Hard.

Then he took two deep breaths, let go of his nose, massaged his forehead, and opened his eyes, hoping against hope that the scene would be different than it had been a moment ago.

As he looked around, he realized he had no such luck.

Bruce had left, Thor was still dancing (if you could call it that), Natasha still had her headphones in and was ignoring everything, and Steve was trying valiantly but failing spectacularly at getting Tony off his desk and onto the couch to sleep off his bourbon.

Clint shook his head at the scene and went to assist Steve.

With his help, they were able to maneuver Tony onto the floor, where at least he wouldn't roll over and break a bone from a fall off the desk.

Then he took a cue from Bruce and took off. He felt a little bad leaving Cap and Nat to deal with the mess he was leaving behind, but he just couldn't take it anymore.

Because Avengers Tower during a holiday party was all too familiar to him.

And he'd left the circus for a reason.


	14. Inevitable (Star Wars)

**Inevitable**

Fandom: Star Wars  
Rated: PG  
Category: Double Drabble. Gen. Humor. Family.  
Time Frame: Set during Return of the Jedi.  
Spoilers: General Star Wars Knowledge Only, and Barely So. Extrapolation of Ewok society.  
Summary: Families are families, even on the forest moon of Endor. And every family has a black sheep.  
Note: Written for the random prompt of "council."

xxx

They've called an emergency meeting of the council.

Normally, I'd beg off a meeting like this, since I'm only an associate member of the council, but with so many elders out with the hunting parties, I can't miss this one.

I put down my pipe and sigh. I was looking forward to a quiet afternoon. But better head out, I guess.

I pass the clearing on my way to the meeting chamber and look down.

My son is supposed to be there today, with the other teens, working on spears for the upcoming hunts.

I don't see him.

Suddenly, I'm filled with dread as I remember why they called this meeting.

Something about a stranger in the village.

Someone some kid found in the woods.

My pace slows as my brain puts it together.

But I keep going, and I'm outside the chamber in moments.

I think hear a familiar voice and I sigh.

Not again.

But I can't quite hear the voice well enough to identify it, and I hope that I'm wrong.

Then I'm in the meeting house and I see the speaker and I know I'm not.

Yep.

Again.

As if there was any doubt.

Dammit, Wicket.


	15. Scratch That (Stargate SG-1)

**Scratch That**

Fandom: Stargate SG-1  
Rated: G  
Category: Double drabble. Gen. Sam Focus.  
Season: One.  
Spoilers: Children of the Gods.  
Summary: As soon as she said it, she regretted it.  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "promotion."

* * *

Sam Carter slammed her apartment door and flopped down onto her couch, still in full uniform.

 _I can't believe I said that_ , she thought. _And to a full bird Colonel, no less!_

Sure, those guys were being macho jerks - especially that Kawalski guy - but that wasn't anything new for her. It's not like she hadn't encountered chauvinism in flight school or a thousand other places in her life. She'd grown a pretty thick skin through the years - or so she thought.

But to pop off about "reproductive organs?" In a briefing? To a Colonel?

Sam was mortified. That was grade school stuff. But there was nothing she could do about it now, so she groaned and made herself get up.

She changed into some sweats and laid down on the couch to watch TV.

She didn't last long.

Her body was still on east coast time, and it had been a long day, so she was soon asleep.

But before she fully passed out, Sam grinned just a bit, because despite her rocky start, there was only one thing about her new position that she knew better than the stargate.

She'd better get a promotion (or three) out of this.


	16. With Friends Like These (Star Wars)

**With Friends Like These**

Fandom: Star Wars  
Rated: PG  
Category: Gen. Minor Characters.  
Time Frame: Rogue One.  
Spoilers: ROGUE ONE. Minor, but present. A New Hope, too. This one is for the Star Wars geeks.  
Summary: There are things you never live down, and "friends" who won't let you, even if you try.  
Word Count: 633

\- Repeat: Rogue One Spoilers -

* * *

"Alright! Fine! Relax!" muttered Cornelius.

"I'll relax when we're off this rock," answered Ponda, not caring that his partner was irritated.

Cornelius glared at Ponda.

"I still don't see why we can't stay the day like we planned. I had engagements."

Ponda sighed. "We don't have time for your 'engagements,' Doctor," he said, dripping sarcasm on the last two words. "We're leaving. Now."

"When did you get put in charge around here?"

"When I rescued your sorry ass from that bounty hunter, that's when."

"Oh, not this again."

"Yes. This again. You owe me. We're leaving. There's too many stormtroopers here. We already dropped the cargo. There's no reason to stick around."

"I ain't scared of stormtroopers."

"In case you haven't noticed, our business isn't exactly legal."

"They're too busy with insurgents to care about a couple of spice runners."

"Says you," groused Ponda. "Me, I'm not taking any chances. I'm leaving. If you want to stay, you're on your own."

"Yeah, yeah," said Cornelius. "Whatever. Let's pack it up and leave like the big, bad Ponda wants."

Ponda sighed. This partnership was getting worse all the time. He wanted to let loose on Cornelius. To beat him to a bloody pulp or least smack him around a bit or actually say the insults that came to mind.

Instead, he just blinked and gestured to the landing area.

"Just get in the ship," he said.

Cornelius trudged up the ramp. He stomped his feet like a child the whole way, but he went.

Ponda followed him, grateful to be leaving despite his partner's petulance.

Something about this place didn't sit right with him. The blasterfire in the streets earlier was nothing new to him, but his job here was done. He didn't see the point in sticking around to find out what the fighting was about or when a stray blast was going to hit him.

So he primed the ship as quickly as possible and took off right afterward.

He and Cornelius hit orbit just as the biggest space station he'd ever seen came into view on the horizon, and Ponda definitely didn't plan on finding out what that was about.

As soon as the hyperspace calculations were done, he jumped.

It wasn't until a week later that Cornelius heard about Jedha. He was watching a news feed in the ship's cockpit while Ponda secured some cargo.

A mining accident, they said.

Cornelius didn't believe that for a minute. He might be nuts, but he wasn't naïve. No way an accident caused the destruction he saw on the cams, and there was that space station…

As he was wondering if the station could possibly have destroyed the moon so completely, Ponda emerged from the hold to join Cornelius.

Cornelius tried to turn off the screen before Ponda saw it, but he was too slow.

Ponda didn't say anything about the news, but he did grin ever so slightly, or as much as an Aqualish can manage. Then he took his seat and started fiddling with the controls.

Cornelius sighed.

Ponda still remained silent, but Cornelius knew it was only a matter of time before Ponda wouldn't be able to hold his tongue.

He'd wait until the worst possible minute, of course, then remind Cornelius how they'd both be dead if he hadn't insisted on leaving Jedha when they did. And he'd do it again and again and again. His track record with the bounty hunter incident proved that.

Cornelius wasn't looking forward to that at all.

Then again, he supposed Ponda would have a point in those future discussions. They apparently _had_ gotten off Jedha just in time.

And as much as Cornelius hated listening when Ponda was self-righteously pointing out his own greatness, it was better than being dead.

Mostly.


	17. Village Idiot (Stargate Atlantis)

**Village Idiot**

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis  
Rated: PG  
Category: Gen. Humor. Carson Focus and POV.  
Season: Any, but likely early.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: Every village has an idiot. And that's not always a bad thing.  
Word Count: 425  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "accept."

xxx

I swallow, then look straight at the village elder and nod.

"I accept."

I hear John lose it behind me.

"Doc! You can't!"

"I have to," I say, knowing it's the truth.

I'm the one who somehow broke the local law, and I'm the only one that can get us out of this jam. Turns out the punishment for my offence is a fight with the local bully. Joy.

Sheppard protests more, but I ignore him. Rodney, miraculously, remains silent.

The lines are drawn (literally – they make a box in the dust of the street) and we are put in our respective corners. How this, of all things, is so universal I'll never know.

A man starts a countdown and then shouts.

It's obviously a cue to start.

I put up my fists, like they taught me in my one day of boxing class as a lad, and step forward.

My opponent does the same, then stops and blinks a few times, like he's dizzy.

A moment later, he pitches forward and hits the ground hard.

I almost feel bad for him as blood oozes from a bitten lip.

Almost.

After all, he's the one who ran into me. This whole thing is his fault.

John and Rodney start yelling behind me. The village elder seems mystified, but gestures to me as the winner of the fight. As such, I turn to my friends and smile. We are all free to go about our business.

"Let's get out of here," I say.

Rodney nods. "Seconded."

Sheppard doesn't say anything, but heads out on the double, with Rodney and I following close behind.

It's not until we're back on Atlantis that John gives me a look.

"So," he begins, "how'd you do it, Doc?"

I shrug and try to look innocent.

"Don't know what you're talking about," I answer.

"Oh, come on," says Sheppard. "I know a drugged man when I see one."

I try not to smile, but fail miserably.

Then I shrug again.

"Well, a knowledge of medicine is a useful thing, Colonel."

John sighs. "I know what you did, Beckett. I just don't know how. Like, when."

Finally, Rodney returns to his usual self and speaks up.

"Oh, please," he moans. "He drugged the wine or whatever that was. Whoever thought a pre-fight toast was a good idea is an idiot."

For once, I don't dispute Rodney's statement.

Because despite all his faults, Rodney does have a way of getting right to the point.

And I'm just glad that village had an idiot.


	18. Constant (Avengers)

**Constant**

Fandom: Avengers (MCU)  
Rated: G  
Category: Double Drabble. Gen. Cap/Steve Focus.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: So much had changed for Steve. He was just glad this one thing remained the same.  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "motorcycle."

* * *

Steve did pretty well most days.

He'd learned to text and he loved that he could watch baseball whenever he wanted, especially given his lifestyle. On demand was fantastic. He liked digital books and portable music. He liked a lot of things about the twenty-first century.

Still, sometimes he missed the scratchy sounds of a radio. He missed telephone operators and real, live people on the line. He missed newspapers. And he still didn't understand why the Dodgers weren't in Brooklyn.

Some days, he just missed everything.

Today was one of those days.

Tony, to his credit, noticed. He handed Steve some fancy new gadget in hopes of distracting him, but Steve refused it and headed down the garage.

Because only one thing would do when it got like this.

Steve pulled the cover off his cure and grinned.

Because while so much had changed, this remained the same.

Everything still worked the same way, and it still felt the same too.

It had taken some time to find the right one, but now that he had, Steve was nothing but grateful.

As moment later, as he sped down the road, he had only one thought:

 _Thank God for motorcycles._


	19. Memento (Star Wars)

**Memento**

Fandom: Star Wars  
Rated: PG  
Category: Gen. Galen Erso POV.  
Time Frame: Rogue One.  
Spoilers: ROGUE ONE. Minor, but present.  
Summary: Lyra Erso gave Krennic a gift – one that keeps on giving.  
Word Count: 152

\- Repeat: Rogue One Spoilers -

* * *

Blaster wounds are odd.

At first, they barely register.

Then the burn sets in. It goes deep and doesn't let go.

Not until it heals. And that takes time, even with bacta.

But finally, the burn fades. The heat goes away and you can move again without catching your breath.

Still, the ache persists. Even with all medicine can do, the muscles pull and stretch and are never quite the same.

It's worse when it's cold. Or when you first get up. Or when you're tired.

It's been a long day in the lab, and Krennic has graced us with his presence for most of it. He's at his desk, and he rubs absently at his shoulder. Then he rolls his neck, and I smile to myself.

Because it doesn't make up for what he's done. Not by a long shot. But it's something.

It hurts him.

And that's enough.

For now.


	20. Watchdog (Star Wars)

**Watchdog**

Fandom: Star Wars  
Rated: PG  
Category: Gen.  
Time Frame: Rogue One.  
Spoilers: ROGUE ONE. Minor, but present. A New Hope and general Star Wars knowledge, too.  
Summary: He had utmost faith in her. Truly. But he still sent a watchdog. Just in case.  
Word Count: 237

\- Repeat: Rogue One Spoilers -

* * *

Bail Organa always known this day would come.

That one day, he'd have to drag him back from that desert.

But now that the time was here, he realized he'd been wrong. He wouldn't be the one to do it.

He was needed elsewhere, and it was only fitting that she be the one to go. After all, she was one of only a select few who knew how important her contact was. And she'd met him before, however briefly. That history counted for something. I meant a lot, actually.

Still, he worried.

He knew he shouldn't. This wasn't her first mission. She was experienced with this sort of thing, and she could handle herself in a fight.

But this felt different. There was so much going on. Everything was moving so quickly. Things were changing.

And she was his daughter.

He would always worry.

So he did the only thing he could. He sent a guardian with her.

And just as it had been with Leia, there was only one candidate for the job.

Bail watched him board the Tantive IV, then turned and boarded his own ship.

He shook his head a little as he did. He was getting too old for this stuff. He was exhausted.

Which is probably how, despite everything, he managed to sleep a little on the way to Alderaan.

Well, that and the fact that his chosen guardian was R2-D2.


	21. Craving (Firefly)

**Craving**

Fandom: Firefly  
Rated: PG  
Category: Drabble. Mal focus.  
Spoilers: Out of Gas (takes place in the episode).  
Summary: To have a craving at a time like this was crazy. Even Mal knew that.  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "ice cream."

* * *

Mal didn't often think of it.

To do so now was crazy.

His ship was crippled, he was freezing, and he was probably going to die soon.

So to remember something so random was just that - random.

And to not just remember it, but to crave it with a passion was downright weird.

Mal blamed Kaylee and that gorram birthday cake, but that didn't really matter.

Because whatever the reason, as he drifted off to sleep for what was probably the last time, he shivered yet again and shook his head.

Seriously, why did it have to be ice cream?


	22. Improvised (Sherlock)

**Improvised**

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
Rated: PG  
Category: Drabble. Gen.  
Series: Early. Pre-series in my mind. But really any, as it suits you.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: If there was one thing Sherlock Holmes could do well, it was improvise.  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "cylinder."

* * *

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

This was new.

Not finding his little brother passed out in the doorway, of course.

That was, sadly, rather commonplace.

But the fact that Sherlock had attempted some sort of theme to whatever this was was intriguing.

There didn't seem to be any experiments running for once.

And yet there were beakers on the counter, flasks in the refrigerator, and in Sherlock's grasp, another scientific instrument.

Mycroft pried it from Sherlock's hand and sniffed it.

He recognized the smell immediately and sighed.

Because of course Sherlock Holmes would use a graduated cylinder as a champagne flute.


	23. Being Tony Stark (Iron Man)

**Being Tony Stark**

Fandom: Iron Man (MCU)  
Rated: G  
Category: Vignette. Friendship.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: Because really, why does Tony Stark do anything?  
Time Frame: Pre-Civil War, post IM3 in my head, but open.  
Word Count: 145.  
Note: Written for the random word prompt of "tick." Also, this one is for Beck. Again.

xxx

Rhodey looked at Fury in disbelief.

"He did what now?"

"You heard me," answered Fury.

Rhodey sighed. "Yeah, I did. I just don't want to believe it."

"Believe it, Colonel," said Fury, leveling his good eye at Rhodey.

Rhodey sighed again. "I'll deal with it."

Fury nodded.

"See that you do," he said. Then he turned and strode out of the room without looking back.

Rhodey groaned and picked up his phone. He needed backup on this one.

As he dialed Pepper, he shook his head in disbelief. This was one for the books. He wasn't looking forward to her reaction one bit, and he honestly wasn't sure how Tony kept ending up in situations like this.

Because despite not being a genius, he understood what made Tony's heart beat.

But even after all these years, he still hadn't figured out what made him tick.


	24. Double Checking (Sherlock)

**Double Checking**

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
Rated: PG  
Category: Double drabble. Gen. Family.  
Series: Any.  
Spoilers: General Sherlock Knowledge, The Abominable Bride (minor).  
Summary: It's not just Santa who checks his list twice.  
Note: This concludes 2016's December Challenge. Twenty-four fics for each day of Advent, this last one just a bit late. Thanks to all who read!

* * *

The first time, he'd made his own list.

It had taken some doing, since he hadn't even known where to start.

Fortunately, he had friends that did, and the basics had already been done.

Several of those were in play, of course, but leave it to Sherlock to be unique.

He'd asked them to check for the rare ones. The ones that might make sense to a mind like Sherlock's.

The doctors had given him that look – the one he received so often from those who didn't know his brother – but they'd done what he asked.

When some of their tests came back positive yet again, they shook their heads in disbelief, but Mycroft only sighed.

It took five days for Sherlock to regain consciousness that time.

When he did, the idea of the list was introduced.

Somehow, miraculously, Sherlock agreed.

The list had made Mycroft's life so much easier. It made antidotes and reversal agents and supportive care and expected duration of action so much more predictable.

But you'd better believe he still ran all the tests, even the ones not on the list.

Because Mycroft Holmes was no fool.

And only a fool didn't check the list twice.


End file.
